


against the world

by lovecharmsxx



Series: sunsets and daydreams (dnf fics) [2]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dream Team SMP Setting (Video Blogging RPF), Dethroned Eret (Video Blogging RPF), Knight Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), M/M, Prince GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Royalty, Squire Callahan (Video Blogging RPF), apparently, because he didnt appear like once lmao, no beta we die like callahan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-13 00:26:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29518056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovecharmsxx/pseuds/lovecharmsxx
Summary: “Prince George.” His eyes blink open like he’s fully seeing for the first time. The knight in front of him stands tall and proud, his helm drawn over his face and hiding his expression from view, leaving only his stature and voice for the world to perceive. Anyone else might picture him cocky. George would have, too, had he not known the blond man so well. George wishes he knew him less, wishes he couldn’t hear the way his voice wavers on his name, quiet and pleading. Always pleading.------also known as an exiled prince, his squire who doesn't really even appear, and the knight he's madly in love with all walk into a bar or the alternate ending to eret's dethronement.
Relationships: Callahan & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: sunsets and daydreams (dnf fics) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2031706
Comments: 6
Kudos: 44





	against the world

**Author's Note:**

  * For [abstractsatanism](https://archiveofourown.org/users/abstractsatanism/gifts).



> literally this ao3 account is just becoming author writes fics for their mutuals' birthdays because that's the only time they have enough inspiration and incentive to finish a fic. anyway. dedicated to @gays4thebloodgod on tumblr (or abstractsatanism here, I kinda forgot you had an ao3) anyway, happy birthday!! if you were wondering why you got anons asking for your birthday and your favorite fic trope, aha, that was me. this sucks, because I wrote the first part of it a few months ago and the ending literally just today and yesterday, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.

“Callahan, you here?” Pushing past the trees, George lets out a soft sigh as he deposits his bucket of laundry by the riverside, wet dirt sinking underneath its weight. He doesn’t expect a verbal response from his companion, who’s long taken an oath of silence, but he still expects some kind of noise. A rustling in the bushes, footsteps, anything, but the forest is quiet, quieter than usual, with only the chirp of birds and the rushing of water to be heard. George’s eyebrows furrow in concern. “Callahan?” Once again, there is no response from his surroundings.

That’s a bit worrisome, he’ll admit. They give each other privacy throughout the day as they go about their normal routine, but Callahan always stays close by, never straying too far. George knows it’s because he’s never truly let go of his loyalty and pride as a knight, despite having told him countless times that they no longer have that kind of relationship. Old habits die hard, he supposes. It’s not like he minds that much. He knows that Callahan knows he can take care of himself just fine (George would hope so, considering how long they’ve spent being self-sufficient out here) and that it’s merely for his own peace of mind that he continues to act as George’s guard. Eventually, George just got used to it as well. It became almost comforting knowing that Callahan will never be too far. As introverted as George can be, there will always be a part of him that desires close companionship. Dare he says, a part of him that almost misses having so many people around. 

The castle grounds were never quiet. He hated all the noise, growing up, but now he thinks fondly of the times when the sound of laughter and the bustling of people were never too far no matter how far into his secluded corner of the castle chambers he goes. Almost as if it followed him, and for sure it used to, in the form of his friends. Old friends, now. He doesn’t allow himself to think of them too much.

George bites his lip, slowly looking around. Hopefully, the ex-knight is just playing some odd prank. He used to do that quite often back home. How long has it been since they left? Long enough to fall into a comfortable routine, one that was rarely ever broken as it simply never needed to be. He raised his head to the sky, eyes flickering at the broken-up shades of white, blue, and grey. It’s starting into the colder months. There’s less time in the day to hang their clothes to dry. He remembers the day he left, a hot and stifling summer day that reminded him all too well of a certain dirty blond knight. A frown tugs at his expression and he shakes his head, turning away from the river to search for his silent companion. 

Before he could wander off too far, he notices a shadow move in the corner of his vision and stiffens. For a second, he thinks it’s Callahan, but he would have already made his presence known, this is most definitely someone else.

George turns abruptly, hand reaching for the knife he keeps at his side, but before he could raise it again, the figure darts toward him, much faster, knocking the weapon out of his hand and pinning him to the tree behind him with his hands above his head. George bares his teeth and hisses, kicking his feet out recklessly, but the stranger does not budge. “Let me go! Who are you? How did you find us?”

Much to his surprise, the figure steps away but hovers close, waiting for George’s reaction. When there is none, he goes to release George’s wrists and he takes that opportunity to take a sharpened hairpin he keeps in his hair and swings at his opponent’s face. They block the attack with their hand, and blood slowly gushes out from the long but shallow wound. The force of the attack had pushed back the assailant's hood, revealing an all too familiar clay mask. 

“Dream?” George gasps, his blood running cold. It can’t be, that’s simply… They’re so far away from the reaches of the kingdom. It’s at least a day’s ride to the nearest town. He glances at the knight’s attire. Rugged and dirty, like he’d been traveling for quite a while.

“Hi,” The blond responds awkwardly, shuffling between both feet and stepping away to give George a little space. George knows that even if he tried to run, Dream is much faster than him and would have him in his grasp with no time.

“Why are you here?” George’s voice sounds strained, even to his own self. He never thought he’d ever have to look at him or hear his voice ever again, that night when he left his kingdom behind and never looked back. He held onto their last memory together (a summer night, a forest, a kiss laced with tears, not wanting to let go, and forgetting, for a moment, about everything and everyone until it was just them two in the world) for so long and now it’s all crumbling right in front of him, replaced by this heartache and longing. He grits his teeth and shuts his eyes as if he could convince himself that Dream isn’t right here, right in front of him. 

“It took a while to track you,” Dream says in response instead, and George huffs, impatient, but also fearing what his next words could be. “Any special reason for choosing this place of all places?” He knows why. They both do. George’s heart still sometimes yearns for the simpler times of when they were younger. When Dream was not a knight and George was not a prince, or at least when they could convince themselves that that’s not what they were destined to become. When the world was just the two of them, sometimes three, and the expanse of the fields that they would explore till the sun was low in the sky and their mothers would come calling home for them. 

George can say he’s not a sentimental person, but we all know that’s a lie. 

“Just tell me why you’re here, Dream.” George is tired of playing this game. His game. 

“Prince George.” His eyes blink open like he’s fully seeing for the first time. The knight in front of him stands tall and proud, his helm drawn over his face and hiding his expression from view, leaving only his stature and voice for the world to perceive. Anyone else might picture him cocky. George would have, too, had he not known the blond man so well. George wishes he knew him less, wishes he couldn’t hear the way his voice wavers on his name, quiet and pleading. Always pleading.

“It’s just George now, Dream.” He responds cooly, hoping he, too, sounds as unaffected as Dream right now looks. A prickle of irritation catches at his heart. George wishes he could hide behind a stupid mask. It’s not fair that only Dream gets to hide and pretend that nothing affects him.

“Eret has been dethroned.” Just like that, all his thoughts seem to scatter to the wind that blows between the two, the distance feeling suddenly like it’s so much larger than just a few steps. It speaks of the months they’ve spent apart, but also of the years they’d spent together which makes them gravitate to each other subconsciously. The way Dream’s foot seems to pivot forward, and George realizes he’s leaning towards him rather than away. He scowls once more, making it a point to step back even when it cages him in the tree.

“That has nothing to do with me anymore. I thought I made that clear to you, that night.” George’s vision swims and his voice stutters as he vocalizes, for the first time in months, what they had shared, “I am no longer the prince of that kingdom and you are no longer a knight sworn to loyalty towards me. So please, Dream–”

“He was dethroned,” Dream repeats firmly, taking a step towards George, who inhales sharply. “Through a bloodless coup, by the people, lead by me.” 

“You… what?” 

“And a few others,” Dream shrugs lightly.

“I… I still don’t know what this has to do with me,” George swallows as Dream takes another step towards him. He’s close enough that if he wanted to, he could reach over and touch. He’s close enough that George has to look up to maintain eye contact. Close enough-

“The people need a ruler, George. One that they trust won’t get the kingdom involved in–in needless politics and personal problems like Eret did.”

“Are you asking me to come back to a kingdom that I had to run away from, just to become a figurehead?” George’s tone is deadpan more than anything, blunt in the way he’s never been afraid to be when it comes to Dream. He can almost imagine the way the blond’s mouth would quirk at his words, the understanding between the two of them not lost to time.

“If that’s something you want to be.” 

“Can you just give me a proper answer for once? Why would–”

“If not,” Dream interrupts him once more, reaching up to pull off his mask revealing the face that George knows all too well hidden beneath. George had not–he had not seen him without his mask, his face now suddenly too close for comfort, in so long. It’s the same as all those months ago. Every freckle on his cheek like the night sky, every scar that he’s harboured and grown into since childhood. It’s like they’ve barely grown from the people they were back then, but George knows that’s not true. The months apart… surely it’s left some mark on them both?

“I’ll stay here with you.” George tunes back into the ending statement of what was no doubt a long-winded explanation from Dream that he had not been paying attention to the past few minutes. “I don’t care about the kingdom, the Crown. As long as I have you, George…” The blond looks at him with the determination of a man willing to go against the entire world for him, a man that already has, and would do it again, and again, and again, if he has to, and the rest of his words go unspoken. Guess that’s one thing that never changed. At the time, George was the one unwilling. This time… maybe. 

Maybe. He’ll be willing to do the same.

**Author's Note:**

> according to ao3 statistics, a large percentage of people who read my fics do not leave a kudos or comment, so if you enjoyed-- just kidding, unless? anyway, I'm @moo-moo-meadows on tumblr if you want to scream about dnf with me <3


End file.
